THE RELUCTANT COURIER

By Pam Stevens

Embark on a thrilling journey as you delve into the pages of "The Reluctant Courier" by Pam Stevens. Meet Sandra Stanford, a seemingly ordinary girl seeking solace in the quiet corners of a dimly lit cafe. Little does she know, a chance encounter with a hit-and-run reveals a world of mystery and peril.

As Sandra becomes an unwitting witnes

• Language: English
• Publisher: AMZ Publishing Consultant
• Release date: Feb 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9781963961072

Pam Stevens

Pam Stevens is a freelance author, librarian, and active volunteer with the Mira Mesa Town Council and other civic groups in Mira Mesa, where she and her husband, Jeff, have lived in the same house since 1980. Their two daughters grew up in Mira Mesa. A regular contributor to Mira Mesa Living magazine, Pam wrote for the Mira Mesa/Scripps Ranch Sentinel from 1982 until it ceased publication in 2009.

Book preview

THE RELUCTANT COURIER

Pam Stevens

About the Author

Pam Stevens, the author of The Reluctant Courier, is a remarkable individual who has accomplished numerous feats throughout her life. With over 33 years of marriage and a successful business career in a male-dominated industry, Pam Stevens has demonstrated her perseverance and tenacity. Growing up on a farm and learning how to train horses at a young age, she has always been passionate about pursuing her interests.

Pam Stevens started her writing career after the age of 40 after she worked for the Horseman’s News as a photographer and writer. After years of reading, she realized she had a knack for writing and began to pursue it further. Despite the loss of her mother last year, she pushed herself to publish her first book.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to my husband and kids who put up with me saying, Wait a minute I have to finish this. Without all of your encouragement and support this book would never have become a reality

Dedication

To Mom & Dad - Thank you for encouraging me to follow my dream, you are both gone now but I know you are looking down and saying Finally!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE 1

CHAPTER TWO 18

CHAPTER THREE 28

CHAPTER FOUR 37

CHAPTER FIVE 49

CHAPTER SIX 63

CHAPTER SEVEN 72

CHAPTER EIGHT 96

CHAPTER NINE 116

CHAPTER TEN 147

CHAPTER ELEVEN 172

CHAPTER TWELVE 197

CHAPTER THIRTEEN 205

CHAPTER FOURTEEN 215

CHAPTER FIFTEEN 227

CHAPTER SIXTEEN 247

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 260

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 269

CHAPTER ONE

Sandra Stanford sat in a small dingy cafe drinking coffee and gazing thoughtfully out into the darkness through the dirty front window. She was a petite girl of twenty-five, with short brown hair that curled uncontrollably around her small face giving her a pixyish appearance.  Her large, Irish green eyes held a hint of sadness in their depths, as if she had been deeply hurt in the not-too-distant past, but her ready smile and lighthearted attitude appeared so genuine that the sadness was rarely noticed and then only by the very astute.

Why did I stop here, she wondered idly, grimacing after taking a sip of coffee, this place not only has rotten coffee, but it's filthy too?  Oh well, what can one expect to find at four in the morning, especially when that someone is too lazy to fix herself a cup of coffee?

There were only two other people in the cafe, one was a bleached blond waitress, who might have been at least attractive with about a pound less makeup and naturally colored hair, she had decided silently.  The other, probably a truck driver, from the truck outside that she had noticed when coming in, was definitely not her idea of an enticing individual.  The type that acted as though he was God's gift to women, even though he was dirty, unshaven, and in general unkempt.  They sat talking softly to one another at the end of the counter in the back of the cafe, each seemingly completely absorbed in the other.  It takes all kinds, Sandra thought humorously, as she turned back to the window.

Sandra, known as Sandi by her friends, noticed as a bus pulled up and stopped across the street from the cafe, apparently letting someone off.  A stooped figure of a man was left standing alone on the far side of the road when it pulled away a few moments later. She hadn't noticed any other homes or buildings, so she decided the cafe must be his destination.  Then she wondered why anyone would want to leave the comparative comfort of the bus for this flea-bitten hole in the wall.

Curiously she sat watching the man as he glanced around before walking toward the cafe.  Suddenly a car appeared out of what seemed to be nowhere, its lights were out and it was speeding straight at him!  Sandi started for the cafe door without even thinking, she only knew that someone was about to be run down by an idiotic driver.  Like a bad dream, everything seemed to shift into slow motion, everything that is, except the car.  She wanted to scream at him, warn him, yet she knew that it was already too late.  He saw the car and tried to jump clear but it simply swerved into him.  There was a horribly dull thud, then nothing but the roar of the car's engine as it disappeared into the inky blackness.

 The man lay on the far side of the road, he was moaning when Sandi reached his side.  She knelt down placing her hand gently on his arm, Please, don't try to talk, just lie still while I get help.

The others were starting toward the cafe door now, having been in the back and absorbed in one another, they had missed seeing the reason for Sandi's abrupt exit.

No!  Wait! The man spoke softly to Sandi; his voice was surprisingly strong considering his appearance.  In the dim light from the cafe windows, she watched as he licked his pale lips with the tip of his tongue before shoving an envelope into her hand.  Then he spoke again, his voice becoming weaker with the effort.  Take this protect it with your life must get to Steven Hoyt... no one else… Could mean war please, his voice was only a weak whisper now and she had to lean closer to even hear him, Congressman Washington… Tell him to look... The rest was only a rattle in his throat.  A thin line of blood trickled from his mouth and another from his nose as his head fell to one side.

The two from the cafe were cautiously crossing the street, Sandi heard the truck driver ask what was going on as she lifted the leg of her pants and slipped the mysterious envelope down inside her western boot.  Then she turned to them, the man's last words racing through her mind.

One of you call an ambulance, this man's been hit by a car, I think he's still alive, but just barely. She knew her voice didn't sound quite normal, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

Instead of doing as she said, both ran over and peered down at the stricken man.  The truck driver turned to Sandi after a moment, See if you can find a blanket, I'll stay with him.  Linda, he turned to the waitress, Why don't you go call an ambulance like the lady suggested. It sounded more like an order than a question.

I've had some training in nursing; I'll try to help...

That was all Sandi heard of the conversation as she hurried to her 'rig' for a blanket, glad to have someone else take charge of the situation.  Her head was spinning with thoughts of the injured man's plea and the accident, which probably wasn't an accident at all, she realized, but an attempted murder instead.  Sandi's 'rig' consisted of an old bus converted into a camper and horse trailer in one, she was a professional rodeo contestant so it served as home most of the time.

Grabbing the first blanket that was handy and starting to return, she saw that the waitress and truck driver still seemed to be arguing over who should go call for help, and who should stay with the poor man.  She abruptly changed directions and went into the cafe to phone for help instead.  Waiting on the line a few moments later the thought crossed her mind that the two outside were certainly turning into a worthless lot in an emergency, arguing at a time like this!

Hanging up the phone after giving the operator all the information she could, she turned toward the door with the blanket feeling guilty for not taking it out first, but she hadn't thought that the phone call would take all that much time.  The poor guy's probably in shock by now, if he's still alive, she muttered angrily.  Of course, if those two hadn't been acting so scatterbrained one of them would have done the calling, she thought.  Or maybe I'm just overreacting, I've probably been reading too many of those thrillers, and with what that guy said I'm the one who's acting a little scatterbrained.

It was only a few minutes until the police arrived but to Sandi, it seemed an eternity.  The man was still lying where she had left him, but a quick glance at the others was all it took to tell her something was decidedly, fishy. Though the light was still dim, it was enough for her to see the truck driver lying off to one side, his hands apparently either tied or handcuffed behind him.  And the waitress, while kneeling over the injured man, was pointing a gun straight at her!  The injured-man's coat lay open, Sandi was sure it had been closed before, had he been searched?

Oh Lordy, what now, she asked herself, freezing in her tracks.  I've had a bad feeling about these two ever since I laid eyes on them, but I never expected this.  I guess I'll just have to play this thing by ear and see what happens, at least the police are on their way, I hope.

Did he say anything to you? The waitress demanded, interrupting her thoughts.

I wonder what the heroine in the book I'm reading would do in a case like this.  Of course, just bluff her way out of it, acting like a dumb blond.  Small problem, I'm not blond and I've never been very good at poker...

I believe I asked you a question, the waitress interrupted her thoughts again.  She stood up, still brandishing the gun, and took a step toward her as if she meant to use it.

Sandi shook her head and blinked her eyes, hoping the image would leave, but it didn't.  I beg your pardon, but I seem to find all this is a little unreal.  A man lies dying at your feet and you're worried about whether or not he said anything to me, you can't be serious! She was rather pleased with how well her attempt to sound both incredulous and enraged at the same time had turned out, especially considering that total terror was much closer to her real state of mind.

The gun wavered, but it wasn't lowered.  There is nothing more you or anyone else can do for him, he's dead.  My name is Barbara Parker, I work for the FBI, now will you answer my question?

Sandi paused, thinking how nice and easy it would be to turn the envelope over to this girl here and now and be done with it, but the man's whispered words no one else came floating back to play a haunting melody in her mind.  After all, she thought, how am I to know if she really is whom she says, even if she showed me some ID, which she hasn't.  It can be forged, and the man lying on the ground is proof that murder isn't too high a price to pay for what she wants.

You're taking your sweet time in answering.  This happens to be rather important, did he, or did he not, say anything to you? The impatience in Barbara's voice seemed to hang in the cold early morning air.

Sorry, Sandi spoke at last, trying to decide just how to answer, but I don't happen to care for guns, especially when they're pointing at me.

Then answer the damn question!

Sandi shrugged, I don't guess there's any harm, but I want the name of your superior, I want him to know how you treat everyday citizens who are just trying to help. Barbara sighed with impatience.  He didn't say anything that I could understand. That was at least partially true, she really didn't know what he was talking about.  He was moaning, I would guess from pain, when I got to him.  I know I would be if a car had just hit me.  And I seriously doubt that I would feel particularly conversational either.  Incidentally, I called the police, they and an ambulance will be here any minute.  You and he, she nodded at the trucker, seemed to have other interests. Sandi figured that it couldn't hurt for this Barbara, or Linda, or whoever she was, to know that the police were on their way, especially if she had anything unhealthy in mind for her.

She must have finally said something right; Barbara lowered the gun before answering.  There's more at stake here than one man's life.  Why don't we throw that blanket over him and go inside out of the cold until the police arrive?  If I hadn't had my hands full with that creep, she motioned at the truck driver, I might have been able to stop you.  Noticing Sandi's startled look at her last comment she smiled, and added, Oh, not that they shouldn't have been called, eventually, it's just that the agency isn't going to like the police asking a lot of questions, like are we involved with this?

Well, aren't you? Sandi asked boldly, turning back to the cafe after laying the blanket over the dead man."

"Let's just say that what the agency is, or isn't involved in, is not necessarily public knowledge, not yet anyway.  I want to ask you some questions before the